


Under the Tree

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Christmas Tree, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season six.  Spike under the tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Tree

The last customer had left the Magic Box, as Anya happily totaled the day’s receipts. “I love the holidays,” she said.

 

Santa put his arms around his fiancé from behind and hugged her. “If you’re happy, Santa’s happy. Ho, ho, ho.”

 

She elbowed him in the well-padded stomach. “Leave me alone, Xander, I’m counting. Besides, you aren’t really Santa Claus. Santa is a big hairy demon that owes me money. You are Xander in a costume.”

 

Refusing to be dissuaded from his seasonal cheer, Xander Claus walked over to Buffy before she could leave the store. “Ho, ho, ho, little girl, and what can Santa bring you for Christmas?”

 

Buffy took her hand from the doorknob and turned around. “How about a hot bath. I’ll take a graveyard full of vamps over Christmas shoppers any day. Or how about promising never, ever to ask me to help in the shop again?”

 

“Come on, Buffy, you’re no fun. Play along,” Xander said, his Christmas cheer suddenly less cheery. He took her hand and led her to the chair. “Climb up on my knee, little girl, and tell Santa what you really want under the tree,” he exclaimed in his most jovial Claus-like voice. “Ho, ho, ho.”

 

Buffy leaned onto what was left of his lap under the cushions and sighed. “Oh, Santa, I guess I want what any normal girl wants. Nice pointy stakes, and true love.” She patted his hand. “I’ll settle for the stakes.”

 

“Ow,” yelped Xander, as Anya cuffed him on the side of the head. “Hey, what’s that for?”

 

“That,” she replied, “is for sharing my lap.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes as she stood up. “No offense, Anya, but you can have it. Not that it isn’t a very nice lap, Santa. This little elf is leaving the workshop and heading home.”

 

 

Buffy walked through her front door and tossed her keys on a table. She pulled off her jacket and made her way towards the stairs. Hearing a rustling sound in the living room, she walked carefully towards the source. She was surprised to see a black-denim clad derriere poking out from under the Christmas tree.

 

“Spike,” she exclaimed, “What are you doing there?”

 

“Just checking the tree base, Slayer. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he replied, without changing position. “Dawn thought it looked a bit uneven. You know, it’s a bit tricky, what with trying to adjust this and not knock off all the bleeding decorations.”

 

Buffy got down on all fours beside the vampire, trying to see the problem for herself. “Look there,” she pointed, “One of the little support thingies isn’t pushed in all the way.”

 

“I know that,” he replied. “The trouble is getting it put back in without pushing the tree over.”

 

She lay on her back and tried to support the tree while he worked with the base. Together they were able to accomplish the goal. Her hand brushed against Spike’s, and she felt the familiar warmth creep through her body. She raised her head and kissed him, and was pleased when he responded.

 

Unconsciously, her hand reached for his belt buckle. He pushed it away. “Buffy, this is hardly the time or place. Niblet’s just gone upstairs to get some more ornaments from the cupboard. I don’t think we want her coming back down for a viewing of Desire Under the Elms. Or fir.”

 

“No fair,” said Buffy. “You’re being the responsible one. When did you go all parental?”

 

He supported himself on his elbow and rested his head on his hand. “Someone has to,” he said, staring into her eyes.

 

His eyes. His windows to the soul. But that was the trouble, wasn’t it? He didn’t have one. Yet, there was something there, something deep and longing. Something that said that she could trust him. Something that said he wasn’t the creature she used to know. Something that said it was wrong to use him; that he deserved better.

 

Something that said that she had been wrong.

 

“Spike,” she asked, “Are there any pointy stakes under the tree?”

 

“What?”

 

“Didn’t think so,” she said. “Just something I asked for from Santa.” She smiled. “I’m starting to think maybe he brought me what I really wanted.”


End file.
